


rookie season

by ghosthunter



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 18:38:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13417236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghosthunter/pseuds/ghosthunter
Summary: There was always the possibility that one of them would make the roster out of training camp and one of them wouldn’t. Sure, it would have been better if they’d both made it, but they’re realists. There are open spaces and anyone in their positions dreams of making an NHL season opening roster, but they’re young.





	rookie season

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Guzmanasol](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guzmanasol/gifts).



> thanks to sunshinexbomb for organizing the exchange and for beta reading. and to lanie for beta reading, even though she leaves comments like "is this hockey talk?" in the margins.
> 
> to guzmanasol - i hope that you enjoy this and i hope that it ticks some of the boxes for your requests. if it doesn't, feel free to tell me i'm an idiot and we can run back to the drawing board. in the meantime enjoy some cute, casual rookie snugs.

There was always the possibility that one of them would make the roster out of training camp and one of them wouldn’t. Sure, it would have been better if they’d both made it, but they’re realists. There are open spaces and anyone in their positions dreams of making an NHL season opening roster, but they’re young.

 

Or maybe that’s just how Christian feels about it because he made the cut. He doesn’t know if he’ll play in the season opener, or the home opener, or if he’s doomed to nacho duty in the press box for the foreseeable future, but he’s on the roster.

 

Which is why he’s not saying anything while he’s sitting on the end of one of the beds in Madison’s hotel room, watching Madison pack up to head back to Hershey. Madison is quiet as he does it, because he’s pretending that he’s not upset, which is really just translating into sullen silence.

 

“Hey,” Christian finally says. Not because he’s thought of anything to say, but because the silence is going to drive him crazy. Madison eventually stops, after Christian doesn’t say anything else. They stare at each other in silence for a moment.

 

“I’m gonna make it,” Madison finally says, and then tosses the t-shirt he’s still holding. “This year. Because I’m not gonna stay up there freezing my balls off in Hershey if you’re gonna be down here - “

 

“Because it doesn’t get cold in DC,” Christian interjects. Madison is from Canada, and he’s being ridiculous right now.

 

“If you’re gonna be down here playing in the NHL,” Madison finishes determinedly. “And I’m gonna have to go to Hersheypark by myself.”

 

“Oh my God,” Christian says, and flops back on the bed, hands over his face. When he uncovers his face, Madison is hovering over him, but now he’s grinning.

 

“You owe me one,” Madison says. “Every single roller coaster.”

 

“Mads,” Christian says.

 

“Three times,” Madison says.

 

“I will throw up on you,” Christian tells him.

 

“No you won’t,” Madison says. “Because you love me.”

 

“Ugh,” Christian says, and pushes at his chest, but Madison’s out of his sulk and his smile is back, which is one of the things that Christian likes about him best, anyway.

 

“Look,” Madison says. “I’m gonna go back to my apartment and smoke a bowl and then I’m gonna go to practice and I’m gonna text you every day, reminding you that you owe me.”

 

“Can’t I owe you something else?” Christian asks. “Dinner, three hundred horrible chocolate bars, blow jobs - anything else?”

 

“I like them,” Madison says, ignoring most of the rest of the offer.

 

“They’re not chocolate,” Christian says.

 

“They’re fine,” Madison says. “And you can’t like, owe me dinner and blow jobs because that’s not special.”

 

“Wow,” Christian says. “Wow. I can’t believe you just said that to me.”

 

“It can’t be special if it happens all the time,” Madison says.

 

“I’m going to dinner without you,” Christian says. “My blow jobs are always special.”

 

“They’re all right,” Madison says. Christian pushes himself back into a sitting position, and silence falls between them as they stare each other down.

 

“If you’re trying to get me to prove it, it’s absolutely not working,” Christian tells him.

 

“Or is it?” Madison asks. He fists his hand in the front of Christian’s shirt and drags him in close, fitting their mouths together. Christian’s instinct is to not let Madison play him like this, but instead he melts into it.

 

At least until someone knocks on the door.

 

“Now you owe me,” Madison says, and rolls off the bed. Christian smooths the wrinkles out of the front of his shirt and runs a hand over his hair. Madison opens door, revealing Jakub standing in the hallway.

 

“We’re all leaving for dinner!” he says brightly, and waves at Christian in greeting when he sees him sitting there.

 

“You know,” Madison says. “You could bring it down a notch, out of respect for those of us who didn’t make the team.”

 

“We’ll just have an even bigger celebration when you do,” Jakub says, unphased by Madison’s irritation, even though Christian’s pretty sure that only part of it is put on.

 

“Uh huh,” Madison says. He grabs his wallet and key cards off the dresser. “You think about that tomorrow when you’re off to Ottawa and I’m back in Hershey.”

 

“You love Hershey,” Jakub says. “You eat the shitty chocolate and you get top pair minutes.”

 

“It’s _fine_ ,” Madison says, slightly exasperated. “I could eat shitty chocolate in DC, too.”

 

“But you wouldn’t get top pair minutes,” Christian says, pushing Madison toward the door, leaving his hand to linger across the small of Madison’s back.

 

“But I’d get NHL minutes,” Madison says.

 

“Or you’d get scratched,” Jakub says. This is, Christian knows, somewhat akin to death as far as Jakub is concerned. But he made the show the year before in call ups. Neither Christian nor Madison has played a game in the NHL so far. It’s different for him, and he can be casual about it in a way Christian can’t, and that’s even further removed than how Madison must feel about it, leaving for Hershey in the morning.

  
  
  


It lasts a week.

 

Niskanen gets hurt a week into the season and Madison gets called up. And it’s a complete fucking disaster that only gets worse after he can only stand there and watch the team get scored on, knowing that it’s all his fault. It’s all a learning experience, he tells himself. Better to get that particular moment behind him than for it to come up again in the future.

 

He goes back to Hershey after the game, then it’s down to DC for practice. It’ll be better, he tells himself, once he’s gotten in a few practices. He’s lucky, he tells himself, that he’s even getting this opportunity at all. He just has to work his ass off to make it stick.

 

He has time to drop his stuff off at the hotel before heading to the rink. They pair him with Christian in practice, and it’s just like it was in Hershey. Even after practice is over, he grabs lunch with Christian and Jakub, and they end up sitting in Jakub’s hotel room playing video games. It lasts until Jakub gets irritated with them - probably somewhat fairly, since they team up to beat him - and tells them he’s going to bed.

 

Madison follows Christian into his room, and sprawls out on his bed while Christian changes into pajamas. “It’s not as different as you think it would be,” Madison says.

 

“Yeah,” Christian says. “Only everyone you’re playing with is incredible and you’re just trying to keep up.”

 

“Do you feel like you’re keeping up?” Madison asks. Christian’s got a whole week more of NHL experience than Madison does.

 

Christian shrugs, then climbs onto the bed, stretching out next to Madison. He rests his head against Madison’s chest, and Madison automatically threads his fingers into Christian’s hair. Madison closes his eyes, even though he’s still wearing all of his clothes, down to his sneakers. Christian slips his hand just under the edge of Madison’s t-shirt and leaves it there.

  
  
  


Bye week sneaks up on them.

 

Well, sort of. There’s Christmas, which they spend with Jakub, and then a sort of weird schedule where they play a couple of games, then have a bunch of days off, and it’s not even the bye week. Then there’s the real bye week.

 

“You know,” Madison says, and Christian already dreads what is coming. “You owe me.”

 

“No,” Christian says. This was not agreed on, and Christian only played two games before Madison got called up, anyway.

 

“Dude, come on,” Madison says. “Roller coasters. Gross chocolate.”

 

“That is not how I’m spending my vacation,” Christian says. He’s stretched out on his stomach, absently watching the group chat, which is blowing up with everyone discussing their vacation plans.

 

“One day,” Madison says.

 

“Mads,” Christian says. The only reason he doesn’t whine Madison’s name is because he’s not that type of person. “Hersheypark isn’t open in January. You know this.”

 

“I’m pretty sure there’s a Six Flags down the beltway,” Madison says.

 

“Why are you like this?” Christian asks. “Why when I owe you is it like, hey, let’s go ride forty rollercoasters until Christian vomits? Why can’t you ever have me owe you something fun.”

 

“You wanted to owe me a blow job,” Madison says.

 

“Which you could have already cashed in,” Christian says.

 

“What if I keep it to a normal and sane level of rollercoasters,” Madison says after a long moment of silence stretches between them where neither of their phones stop buzzing.

 

“The Six Flags isn’t open either,” Christian says.

 

“Fuck,” Madison says.

 

“Can we not just go to the beach like everyone else on the team?” Christian asks.

 

“Not everyone is going to the beach. Orly’s going snowboarding,” Madison says.

 

“I would rather,” Christian says. “If it’s that or roller coasters.”

 

“Christian,” Madison says, sitting up straight on the bed and looking at him. Christian tilts his head and his hair falls over his face. “I really don’t feel like you’re putting effort into this relationship.”

 

Christian snorts and buries his face in the duvet until his response of “shut the fuck up” is muffled.

 

“I want a divorce,” Madison sighs, and flops back down. Christian makes a non-committal noise and rolls over until their bodies are pressed together.

 

“Can’t we just go to the beach,” Christian says. “V is going to the beach.”

 

“You wanna go on vacation with V instead,” Madison says. “I see how it is.”

 

“He doesn’t try to bully me into riding roller coasters and he doesn’t think that Hershey is real chocolate,” Christian says.

 

“He’ll never love you like I do,” Madison says. Christian muffles another snort into the duvet.

 

“Stop,” he says. “Fine. Find a place that has a beach and a roller coaster. Where it’s warm. And just one rollercoaster.”

 

“Sold,” Madison says, and rolls off the bed to get his laptop, slapping Christian on the ass as he goes.


End file.
